


not enough flowers and not enough heroes

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Grief/Mourning, Panic Attacks, Post-Season/Series 03 AU, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 00:45:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11002422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: May and Daisy have an overdue conversation next to Andrew's grave.





	not enough flowers and not enough heroes

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Si el invierno viene frío (quiero estar junto a tí)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7854775) by [Florchis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis). 



> Before S4, I wrote a fic (in spanish) about Daisy getting pregnant one year after leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. This is a scene from that fic, that I "translated" (very loosely) for a friend, and decided to share for everyone else, because I think it works pretty well on its own. 
> 
> I think that the only important things for you to know are that this happens ~1.5 years after the end of S3, Daisy is pregnant and May is Director.

Daisy knows that there is not much relief to be found in a piece of stone carved with something close to Lincoln’s name, that covers a portion of dirt that never had anything to do with him. She sympathizes with Simmon’s interpretation of The First Law of Thermodynamics, but it doesn’t comfort her right now; it’s one of those things that will comfort her ten, twenty years from now: there will come a moment when she will see a flower, a star or a child- maybe _her_ child- and she will only be able to think _You had to be involved in making this for it to be so perfect._ Meanwhile, she can only sit down three feet away from this stone. Not crying is the only victory she can aspire to.  

She would like to think this is a coincidence, but when you have been a spy and are now a vigilante in the shadows, you can not afford to believe in coincidences. After all, she is always very careful when she comes to see “him”: she wears colorful clothes, that contrast with the somber style she chose for Quake, and she never comes on any significant date (the anniversary of his death, the anniversary of when she left S.H.I.E.L.D., not even the anniversary of when they met). Maybe she should reject May’s presence the same way one can resent an unexpected hug, but even though she knows it’s not a coincidence, she doesn’t feel attacked by it either. Maybe because May is not huddling in the shadows waiting to catch her, but instead standing on plain sight and not looking at her. Maybe because May has some white flowers with her. Maybe because it’s May.  

“Do you come here often?” 

May shrugs and bows down to put the flowers near the gravestone.

“No, not really.” Daisy nods, and doesn’t push for more information. “Walk with me?”

She doesn’t know what are May’s intentions, but she has nothing to loose. They walk in silence side by side, and the perpetual lump in Daisy’s throat hardens when they get to Andrew’s grave. 

Daisy hasn’t really forgotten about Andrew’s sacrifice, or about the many humans and inhumans alike that have died during her final months with S.H.I.E.L.D.; the remainder of them has just transformed into guilt attached to her subconscious that paralyzes her during sleepless nights. Daisy didn’t forget those deaths, could never forget those deaths, but she doesn’t think that often about the people that was affected by those deaths. It’s easier to remember the fallen than to care about the living.   

What does May feel, May, who had with Andrew tenfold the time that Daisy had with Lincoln? What does May think, because Lincoln chose a cause greater than all of them, but Lash made his sacrifice for her, when she is nothing but weak and small, broken and selfish?   

Daisy opens her mouth, but no sound comes out, and she wouldn’t be able to explain what she wanted to say anyway, and she can feel a panic attack starting to form in her throat and her solar plexus, and it’s such a startling sensation that she is terrified of maybe losing control and bringing to the ground everything in a ten-miles radius.

May takes her wrist with so much force that her nails pound into Daisy’s skin, and maybe in any other moment that would have make her spiral down into a panic, but it may be just what she needs right now, because only then she manages to take a stammering gulp of air, while she looks at May with tearful eyes.    

“Andrew was a grown man who could make his own decisions.” May doesn’t look at her, but she hasn’t loosen the grip on her wrist, and Daisy focuses on the pain to try to slow down her heart rate. “I don’t visit him because there is nothing his here that I can use. All I need from him is either here or here.” And she touches with her free hand the left side of her chest and then her temple.

“But I want you to remember, Daisy. Don’t focus on the guilt, life it is what it is, and we have to move on. You don’t get a break just because you are suffering. But I want you to remember, because you have taken a decision that will affect the rest of your life, and there is a wonderful and terrible road ahead of you. Nothing is a coincidence, everything is experience, and maybe Andrew wanted you to have this life because he knew that this world could never have enough flowers and enough heroes. And maybe because of this baby, too.”  

Only then May lets go of her hand, and Daisy takes both her hands to clear the tears on her cheeks, and maybe sometimes crying is its own victory.


End file.
